Scarred
by PhantomVarg
Summary: From the disastrous agni kai, through the recovery, to the banishment. Witeness the scarring of a fallen prince, and the love that is shown to him by the only person who cares.
1. Burned

_This is just something I'm writing to cure my writer's block. I haven't written anything creative for months because of my AP English class, but since that's beginning to wind down, I figured I'd better get back to writing narratives rather than essay after essay. I don't have ideas for my other fanfic at the moment, so I decided to write about Zuko, because I'm currently infatuated with him. (fangirl grin) This won't be long, maybe two or three chapters at the most. Meh, we'll see._

_Don't expect this to be good, I haven't written anything in months. But all the same, I'd like any constructive criticism my readers have to offer. Thankies. Well, it's get on with it. Hopefully my writing skills haven't fallen too far._

--

"Please, father! I only had the Fire nation's best interest at heart! I'm sorry I spoke out of turn!"

The boy's pleas went unnoticed.

The crowd continued to watch in anticipating silence.

The Fire Lord advanced toward his traitorous son.

"You _will_ fight for your honor," he declared. The boy barely met his father's eyes. His body, massively built as a bull's, was darkly silhouetted against the powerful flames surrounding the Agni-Kai arena. They seemed to mimic the Fire Lord's fury.

"I meant you no disrespect." His voice beginning to break, he lowered himself to the floor and bowed to his father. "I am your loyal son…"

His father's footsteps ceased as he stopped in tracks, towering before the boy.

"Rise and fight, Prince Zuko!" His demanding voice was a defining bellow. Still, the boy didn't move. The crowd began to murmur.

"I won't fight you…" The prince's voice was nothing more than a guttural whimper. He kept his eyes on the floor, his body beginning to tremble.

"You will learn respect…" the Fire Lord began. He lifted his hand and balled it into a fist, ready to strike. In the audience, a Commander looked on with cold eyes. A girl only a few years younger than the boy, raised her own fist in cruel expectation. Between them stood an old man, weathered by age and experience. He stared at the scene in before him with sorrowful and apprehensive eyes.

The prince tremulously lifted his head. He stared at his father with eyes glazed by terror and intermingling with grief. Tears streamed down his face in rivers.

"…and suffering will be your teacher."

The Fire Lord thrust his fist forward for the blow. Back in the audience, the old man averted his gaze and closed his eyes. He didn't want to watch.

The boy barely had the chance to recoil before a bright flash and a wall of heat exploded in his face.

The pain was excruciating- and immediate. The torrent of flame struck him with suck a force that he was thrown back. He felt the floor vanish from under his feet and a horrifying sensation of being thrown into the air, then the plummeting. He did not know for how long he fell; it seemed as if it were in slow motion, that he would be falling forever. But that feeling paled in comparison to the agony assaulting his face.

The roar of flames ceased abruptly, and the boy heard someone screaming. For a split second he wondered who it was. Someone in the crowd? His father, perhaps, screaming in sudden comprehension of what he had done? Was it his mother, finally returning to save him from this pain and torment? No, it was too deep of a scream to be a woman's cry.

His muscles tensed as his back collided with the ground, knocking the breath from his lungs. The screams of pain and shock were cut short, and he realized that they were his own. His body twisted from the impact, and he half somersaulted, half slid painfully along the floor before easing into a crashing halt. He lay in a heap, momentarily stunned, the left side of his face burning and stinging mercilessly.

The boy bent his arms and struggled to rise, but they buckled beneath him, and he collided with the floor again, trembling uncontrollably and pain radiating from all corners of his body. He felt heavy, drained of all energy and will. He felt a thousand eyes staring down at him, some appalled, other pleased at his downfall.

He opened his eyes, and screamed in agony once more. His left eyelid could only twitch, and even that slight movement brought forth a wave of unbearable pain across his burned face. The crowd fell silent as the prince writhed on the floor, then, panting, lifted his head and opened his right eye.

The image was clear at first. His father towered over him, silhouetted black and massive against flames. The prince let out a pleading whine as the Fire Lord turned and walked away, without a glance. Suddenly the shape of his father began to grow blurry, and he felt his stomach lurch nauseously. The world seemed to melt into itself, the colors and images swaying and blending like a painting that had been drenched in water. Faintness took over him. Darkness began to close in, and he felt his useful eye grow heavier and heavier, until he couldn't keep it open any longer. He felt his head hit the floor, and everything around him faded to black.

Before he fully lost consciousness, he heard the old man shattering the air around him with a scream, calling his name.

"ZUKO!!"

--

_Ugh, that was awful. Well, let me know what you think so far, and get this poor old soul back to doing what it loves most. I appreciate it greatly._


	2. Bandanged prt1

_I forgot that Zhao was a Captain back in this time period, not a Commander. Gaaahh!! Okay, I am calm… (smoke billows out of nostrils) Enjoy peoples!_

--

General Iroh waited outside the infirmary.

His face was expressionless, but his eyes flickered with a fury of emotion.

The old man began to pace outside the doorway.

"How is he?"

The voice jarred him from his thoughts. Iroh looked up to see Captain Zhao walking toward him. He was a tall man, powerful, in body, mind, and Firebending skill. And he was an expert in militaries as well, which made him a favorite of Fire Lord Ozai's troops. There was no concern in his tone of speaking, and his eyes gleamed cruelly at the old General.

"Captain Zhao." Iroh sighed. "No word yet, I'm afraid."

A faint smile twisted onto Zhao's lips.

"Well, Jon-Fu is the one of the finest physicians the Fire Nation has ever seen." The Captains's voice was filled with mocking sincerity. "He'll make sure that Prince Zuko pulls through. _If_ such a thing is possible, that is. The boy's wound was terrible."

The words cut into Iroh like a knife. But he kept his calm composure.

"Yes, it was a frightful burn…"

"Worthy of any traitor to Lord Ozai," Zhao continued haughtily. Iroh lowered his head once more as Zhao began to study the General's Face. "You've gotten quite close with Zuko since your return from Ba Sing Se, I've been told."

"That is correct," Iroh replied warily.

"Yes, you've been training him well." There was a slight pause. "But not well enough."

The old General gritted his teeth to keep from retaliating the criticism.

"In fact," Zhao persisted, "if you had only taught him to _keep his mouth shut_ when he is expected to, the Fire Lord wouldn't be forced to make such a grave decision about his son's actions."

Iroh glared up at the Captain. "What are you saying, Zhao?"

"Lord Ozai called a meeting. He said that Zuko's outburst in the war chamber was an act of complete disrespect, as he had said before." Zhao let the grin on his face become wider- he was enjoying this. "But he also said that his son's actions at the Agni Kai were more serious. He did not fight when he was called to do so. That was a show of insubordination and weakness. Lord Ozai would not want such a son to inherit the throne."

Iroh shook his head in disbelief. "No," he whispered a first, then spoke with a stronger voice. "No. My brother may be callous, but he wouldn't-"

"You know your brother too well to defend him, General." Zhao began to walk down the hall as Iroh's word's faltered. Before leaving, he paused and flashed a nasty smirk. "Trust me when I say this. He _would_."

His footsteps echoed down the dark hallway, and he was gone.

Iroh balled his hands into fists at his side so tightly that his arms shook. He felt heat surge into his fingertips, making thin wisps of smoke rise from them. The old man bared his teeth. Long ago he would have charged after Zhao and demonstrate his Fire Bending knowledge on him. But he had been a different person then. Much had changed since his failed attempt to capture the Earth kingdom city of Ba Sing Se. He had changed.

So instead of rage-filled screams and fire bending threats, he stood still and fought nothing but tears.

--

Some time later, the doctor voice roused Iroh.

"General Iroh." It was a forceful whisper.

Iroh grunted and opened his eyes. He was leaning heavily against the stone wall beside the doorway. Jon-fu was standing beside him. He looked every bit a doctor. He was thin and gangly, and had big brown eyes filled with knowledge of healing. His short black hair was neatly combed to the side. Small, round glasses rested on the tip of his nose.

"You, ah… fell asleep, Sir." Jon-fu spoke nervously, readjusting his glasses.

Iroh chuckled lightly and straitened his composure. "Well, when one gets to be my age, you can nod off at any given time."

The doctor chuckled, too, but another emotion quickly clouded his face. Iroh felt something inside him twist into a knot.

"How is he, Jon-fu?"

Jon-fu gave him a long look before dragging out a sigh. "I've done all I could."

A pause. Iroh gave an encouraging nod. "Go on."

"His burn is quite serious. In all my years of study and practice, I've never dealt with an intentional burn this bad before." He paused and removed his glasses. "The left side of his face is ravaged, General, from his eye to his ear. Some of his hair was burned off, the rest of it singed. I've cleaned him up, treated him with my best burn balms, and bandaged the worst of it."

"And, will he…?"

"He will survive. But he might not thank me. The trauma to his face was very severe. It will be impossible for him to recover without a large facial scar. At this moment he is still unconscious."

Iroh felt a bit of an unseen burden being lifted from his shoulders. "All that matters is that Zuko will live. Jon-fu, you have my gratitude." He bowed respectively.

"Thank you, General." Jon-fu returned the bow. "You can see him now, if you'd like. I have to report to Lord Ozai."

Iroh nodded. "Of course. Thank you again, Jon-fu."

The doctor nodded, then disappeared into the hallway. Iroh took a deep breath, then entered the doorway. He needed to forget all that Captain Zhao had said, weather it was true or not. He needed to forget the nature of his brother's actions. He needed to put everything out of his mind.

Zuko needed him now. That was all that mattered.

--

_Okay, not as good as I hoped for, but eh. You gotta love Iroh._

_I'm giving out coupons for a free cup of tea at the Jasmine Dragon to all reviewers! _


	3. Bandanged prt2

_Okay, here's the next part. Enjoy!_

--

Iroh wrinkled his nose as he entered the room. It smelled like smoke and burning hair. It was dark; the only source of light came from the small torches on the wall, and their flames only cast a dim flicker of a glow. He could hardly make out where Zuko's sickbed lay.

After a moment his old eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. Iroh glanced around the room. There was a table, its flat surface strewn with bottles, linen bandages, and a cloth floating in a large pail of water. A jug of cleaner water rested alongside it. His heart began to thunder. He didn't want to see the unconscious boy lying on the bed. He was afraid of what he might see.

_No_, he thought. _Just look. He needs you._

Quickly, he turned his head to look at the bed. He drew in a sharp gasp.

Zuko was lying on his back, with a blanket pulled halfway over his body. His shirt was gone, and his chest barely seemed to move as he took long, ragged breaths. His arm was badly bruised, and the right half of his face was laced with bright red burns. Most of the hair at the front of his scalp was burned away, including his eyebrows. But the left half of his face made Iroh clench his teeth in sympathy. A huge white bandage covered it. It tapered over his forehead twice and crossed the bridge of his nose down to his chin. From there, it was wrapped diagonally around his head multiple times. Through the loose crisscrosses of linen, Iroh could see slivers of the severely burned flesh around his eye. It made his stomach flip over.

Even in unconsciousness, the boy seemed to be in pain. His nostrils were flared, his mouth was twisted into a grimace, and every exhaled breath was laced with a barely audible groan. Iroh bent his knees carefully and kneeled down beside the bed. He lifted one of his calloused, gnarled hands and, very gently, grasped one of Zuko's. Maybe it would comfort him…

Iroh found himself whispering.

"I'm sorry, my nephew." He said self loathingly, closing his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have let you into that meeting…"

Zuko didn't respond.

"I've been a damned old fool, Zuko, and you had to suffer for it. I could have…" Iroh's lips began to tremble, and he stifled a sob. "I should have done something… _anything_, to prevent this…"

He paused, and opened his eyes. Tears streamed from them.

"I beg your forgiveness, nephew… because I can _never_ forgive myself…" Iroh set his head down on the bed, and his shoulders began to shake as soft sobs racked his body. As he cried, he held Zuko's hand close to him. It was all he could to prevent himself from scooping up the injured boy in his arms.

He had held his son, Lu Ten as he died, and Zuko was hardy any different now, save for one thing- he was alive. He would survive this and, come what may, he would live on. Lu Ten would live on in the Spirit World, yes, but not here with the living. He had failed to protect his beloved son during the siege of Ba Sing Se, and since then, he had looked to Zuko as his second chance. He had vowed to be his educator and mentor. The two had grown close during these few short years, and Iroh began to feel part of himself revived as he grew to love Zuko as his own. But now all that came crashing around him.

His sobbing eventually subsided, but he kept his head down. Iroh didn't know how long he stayed like this, but his head lifted as a sound came to is ears. Zuko groaned, louder than before, and coughed harshly a few times. He groaned again, and fell quiet once more.

"Zuko?" Iroh forced himself to regain his composure and held the boy's hand more tightly. "It's your Uncle Iroh. Can you hear me? _Zuko?_"

Zuko opened his right eye, slowly. He gazed up at his uncle, looking weak and confused.

"Zuko?" Iroh asked again

"Uhhnn… Uncle…?" The Prince's voice was weak and seemed to be scorched with smoke. He drew in another breath to speak, but collapsed into a coughing fit again. Alarmed, Iroh let go of the boy's hand and slid his arm under Zuko's back, propping him up. He grabbed the small jug of water with his free hand and held it to Zuko's lips.

"Drink," he commanded, feigning calmness to hide his worry. "It'll clear your throat up a bit." It wasn't tea, but it would have to do.

Zuko obeyed and took small sips of the cool water. When he was finished, Iroh laid him down once more. He watched as Zuko lay panting, his visible eye clamped tightly shut in agony.

"Where's father…?"

Iroh felt his heart stop as he recalled Captain Zhao's words. "He's speaking with the council."

"About me?" Zuko's eye opened abruptly, and he struggled to sit up, grunting with pain as his muscles tensed in protest. "Is… he angry? What's he going to-"

"That doesn't matter right now, Prince Zuko," Iroh said, cutting him off. He gently pushed Zuko's body back onto the bed, where he lay inertly once more. Iroh took the cloth from the pail of water, wrung it out, and dabbed Zuko's sweating brow with it. "Lie still. You need to regain your strength and allow your injuries to heal. We can deal with other matters soon enough."

Silence washed over them once more. After a while, Iroh suspected that Zuko had fallen asleep. He removed the cloth from his forehead and settled down to keep watch over him until he woke. He closed his eyes in silent prayer to the Spirits, but opened them again as Zuko spoke once more.

"How bad is it…?" he rasped. He lifted his hand to his face, and gently touched the bandages on his forehead. Zuko winced and inhaled sharply as even that slight contact made the burn over his eye sting like the very fire that burned him.

Iroh reached out and gently, moved Zuko's hand away from his face and back down at his side. He sighed regrettably.

"I won't lie to you, Zuko," he whispered. "It's bad."

--

_Whoo! Short but whatever. Let me know what you think. Any critique is welcomed an encouraged. This isn't my best writing, I know, but I'd like to improve. And let me know how you like the story so far as well._


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